


Reasonable Accomodation

by unrestedjade



Category: Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-09
Updated: 2016-11-09
Packaged: 2018-08-29 23:39:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8510167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unrestedjade/pseuds/unrestedjade
Summary: For x-i-l-verify, who wanted Jazz and the jettwins bonding.Warnings: none.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For x-i-l-verify, who wanted Jazz and the jettwins bonding.  
> Warnings: none.

The Steelhaven was a large ship for the minimal crew on board. Their current mission was taking them to an undocumented jungle planet half a galaxy from the borders of the Commonwealth, on the far side of the galactic disc. For many species, first contact with an alien world would include a full retinue. Scientists of every stripe might collect data on the planet’s geology, weather patterns, biomes and more. Diplomats might establish ties with the native sentient lifeforms. Journalists and perhaps even an artist or two could record their impressions of a foreign sunset or the picturesque life of the locals.

 

But these were Cybertronians, and the undocumented planet was M-class, an organic world. Even if the nature of their mission hadn’t necessitated a certain amount of discretion, every Cybertronian knew that organic worlds harbored little but dangerous contaminants and equally dangerous lifeforms. Though Ultra Magnus himself was among their number, only five members of the Elite Guard moved through the corridors of the ship on its long journey.

 

And yet, somehow, Jazz couldn’t get a megacycle to himself.

 

Snapping sharply out of his meditation for what felt like the thousandth time, he greeted the twins.

 

“How are you knowing it is us?” Jetstorm said, trotting up to stand level with Jazz.

 

Jazz couldn’t help smiling at the honest amazement. “Know you by your walk, young blood.” In any case, there were only four other bots on the ship. Even a wild guess would have a decent chance of being correct. Two bots walking together– unconsciously falling in step with one another– narrowed the choices down considerably.

 

Jetfire fidgeted at Jazz’s other side, restless warmth radiating from his frame. “The observation deck is being strange place for nap, sir.”

 

“Not napping, brother,” Jazz said. “Meditating.”

 

A stereo cough of disgust sounded from either side. Jazz had tried guiding the twins in meditation exactly once. He’d hoped the practice could bring a little serenity to the brothers’ frenetic processors, but they didn’t jive with the whole ‘sitting still’ and 'being calm’ business.

 

“So,” Jazz went on, “what brings you up to the observation deck?” He knew the hint wouldn’t stick. He’d have to find a new hiding place and try again. It had been solar cycles since he’d last made it through an entire meditation session, and he was feeling the strain.

 

The twins shuffled awkwardly before simultaneously sitting on the floor next to him.

 

Jetstorm scraped his heels against the deck plating. “We are having game of…” He thought for a klik, his language codecs struggling through the morass of provincial dialect, severe processor trauma, and foreign coding for the proper Neocybex word. “Game of chase?”

 

Were they really playing tag in the corridors? Jazz smiled to himself. Well, they were very young, after all. Still had that new protoform smell.

 

“Don’t let Sentinel Prime catch you goofing around like that,” Jazz said, though he couldn’t put much iron in his voice. “You know how he gets.”

 

“Jazz, sir,” Jetfire grumbled, going so far as to actually lean against the saboteur’s side. “It is so long since we are flying. Is fine for you,” he said, poking at Jazz’s pauldron. “But ship is making us crazy as stir, always walking and being careful as petrorabbits in den of turbofox.”

 

Jazz sagged a bit under the young jet’s weight, but he didn’t mind it. Whatever the upper echelons of Iacon society preferred, Autobots weren’t meant to live at arm’s length from each other all the time. These two jumped-up laborers from a backwater colony were the best company he’d had in the Elite Guard in a long time.

 

“If you two are catching space madness,” he teased, “I’ll have to throw you in the brig 'til you cool off.”

 

Jetstorm leaned against his other side, propping him back up straight. “Madness is being more interesting, at least.”

 

Jazz considered the view through the observation deck’s thick windows for a moment.

 

“We’re in an uninhabited zone right now,” he said. “I could see about giving you some time outside. Burn some of the space barnacles off the hull, transform and cruise alongside the ship for a few megacycles. Could even combine for a while, if you wanted.”

 

The twins perked up. “Really?” Jetfire said, with his brother echoing the sentiment a fraction of a klik out of sync.

 

A brief space walk shouldn’t have been so exciting, but Jazz was aware of how little attention was paid to the twins’ needs. The vast majority of Cybertronians found being confined to root mode for too long stressful and depressing, and fliers were no different. Why should they be?

 

And if the sight of a flier made Autobots deeply, instinctively uncomfortable… Well, in Jazz’s humble opinion, they should have thought of that before reformatting two of their own into fliers. The sight of them swooping around through the air gave him the surges, too, if he was honest– but that was _his_ problem. It wasn’t like the twins had asked for any of their so-called enhancements.  

 

Not that they were bitter at all. Even with a bevy of compatibility issues, side-effects, and being treated more as curiosities and test subjects than fellow Autobots, both brothers faced it all with a smile. Their simple gratitude at simply being alive and having a second chance to be useful to the Commonwealth sent guilt chewing through Jazz’s spark like a worm. It hadn’t been his call, and it wasn’t like there was a thing he could have done to stop it, but on the list of incidents he wasn’t proud of, his involvement with this particular project rated at the very top.

 

They’d been so young at the time of the accident that they hadn’t even received their designations yet, still going by their serial numbers. They’d been named by the Iacon scientists who’d rewritten large swathes of their operating systems and rebuilt their shells. And then they’d been ushered into the Elite Guard to be used for the greater good of all, and no one gave a byte of a damn about either of them save for the twins themselves.

 

Jazz felt responsible for them in some way. If he could find little ways to make them happy, to let them know someone cared about them and accepted them as they were, then it was the least he could do.

 

…The promise of transformation and exercise must have calmed them, because Jazz had rarely witnessed the twins sitting still for this long. They all but draped over him, staring out at the nebulae the ship was passing, silent but for the hum of their internal systems.

 

He knew the peace would only last for a few minutes at most, but he tuned his engine to an idle drone and started his meditation again.


End file.
